


Til Kingdom Come

by zjofierose



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Ambassador Spock breaks my heart, Ambassador Spock has secrets, Angst with a Happy Ending, First Kiss, First Time, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Spock Prime is all my creys, Spock teasing Jim is my favorite, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 20:22:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8937778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zjofierose/pseuds/zjofierose
Summary: It takes a slip of the tongue to bring Spock to Jim's quarters late one night; what's on his mind, and what's hidden in Jim's? (In which Ambassador Spock may be a manipulative old coot, or might just genuinely miss his Jim so much that it bends the universe around him.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Star Trek Secret Santa 2016!"](startreksecretsanta.tumblr.com) Many thanks to the_deep_magic and lousy_science for handholding and correcting, as needed. <3 Ambassador Spock is proud of you both.

Jim opens the door to his quarters, allowing himself a long, drawn-out, sigh as he pulls the pips from his collar and drops them on the table just inside the room. It’s been a long day; he’s been awake at least eighteen hours, conducting diplomatic talks on M’wqua with the rest of his senior staff, talking and listening and nodding in all the right places until his head wants to fall off his neck. He can see the planet now from where he stands, a round ball of swirling pink clouds outside the viewport on the far side of his quarters. It looks peaceful from here; no visible trace of the devastating civil wars which have crippled the planet and led them to call on the Federation for aid in reaching a resolution.

“Computer, lights, fifty percent.”

His quarters are thrust into sudden brightness, the yellow glow settling over tables and padds and highlighting a familiar black-haired form sitting with steepled fingers in one of Jim’s armchairs. 

Jim rolls his eyes, too tired to make much of a response. “Jeez, Spock, creepy much?”

“I am sorry for any inadvertent alarm my presence may have caused.”

“No, you’re not.” Jim toes off his boots and pulls his shirt off over his head, heading for the fresher. “If you were actually concerned about startling me, you wouldn’t be sitting in my quarters in the dark. There’s a word for that, you know, Spock- it’s ‘stalker’.”

He can feel the force of Spock’s Vulcan not-eyeroll even with his back to his first officer, and he grins as he pulls down his pants and steps into the sonic shower. He flicks it on and stands still with his eyes closed as the waves move over him, letting it wipe away some measure of the stress and exhaustion of the day.

“I am aware that you have particularly high spatial assessment and awareness skills for a human,” Spock says, pitching his voice to carry in through where Jim’s left the door open, “or I would have followed more standard social protocols.”

“You knew I’d know you were there, so you didn’t bother to turn on the lights,” Jim translates, stepping out of the shower and yanking a comb through his hair in an effort to make it do something other than stick up all over his head. 

“Correct,” Spock says, tone as sedate as ever, and Jim laughs under his breath as he steps into a fresh pair of sweatpants, then moves to the sink to quickly rinse his mouth. 

“Alright, Spock, that doesn’t answer the  _ real  _ question, though,” Jim muses, walking barefoot back into his sitting area and grabbing for the closest grey standard-issue t-shirt slung over the back of the chair opposite Spock. He pulls it over his head and heads to the food synthesizer, pushing the button to bring it online. “One Vulcan spice tea and two Saurian brandies.”

The synthesizer obliges, and Jim carries the tea and one of the brandies over to settle on the table next to Spock. He’s turned to head back to the replicator to fetch the other when his wrist is suddenly held fast in a warm, strong, grip. 

“ _ The real question _ , Jim,” Spock says, his voice strangely intense, when Jim turns to look down on him in surprise. It’s not that Spock  _ never  _ touches him, but it’s an unusual enough event to get Jim’s full attention, especially skin-to-skin contact. Spock’s touch telepathy isn’t as strong as other members of his species, but it’s strong enough to make casual contact something he tends to avoid. 

“What’s going on, Spock?” 

Jim stands still, making no attempt to pull away. He looks closely down at his friend, searching his face for a clue. There’s something in the set of Spock’s mouth, the corners of his eyes- Spock’s expressions are always intense, but there’s something moving in them now, shifting and turning as though he can’t decide whether to repress as ruthlessly as always, or-  Jim peers at his eyes, those dark brown wells that always give away far more than Spock would like. There’s something there, something that looks like -

“Hope?” Jim says in surprise, and Spock outright scowls, dragging his hand away from Jim’s wrist and looking away. “Spock, what are you hoping for?” Jim breathes, dropping to his knees in front of the chair, setting his hands on Spock’s legs to halt his upward progress as Spock starts to rise. It’s one of the things he’s learned about Spock in their four years together out here in space; Spock is the most fearless person he’s ever known when it comes to physical bravery, to risking life and limb for something bigger. He’s also unflinchingly courageous in the face of intellectual rigor, the search for truth, and any indication of his own failings. Emotions, though? Nothing will make him run away faster. 

“It’s nothing.” Spock says, and turns his face away, his voice quiet, brittle. “Jim. I should not have come.”

“Shut up, Spock, don’t be ridiculous,” Jim says quietly, nerves twisting his stomach even as he forces his voice to be steady, “tell me what’s got you hiding here in the dark in my quarters when I know you’ve got to be as worn out from this diplomatic bullshit as I am.”

“Which do you prefer, Jim?” Spock answers peevishly, straightening his shoulders. “That I tell you, or that I shut up?”

Jim drags a hand down his face and leans back on his heels, rubbing at his temples as he speaks.

“Spock, it’s been an eighteen-hour day, and all I want to do is get some sleep before I have to get up and do it all over again tomorrow. You’re my friend, and I love you, but I don’t have the time or energy to play games right now. Here,” he settles his hands palm up on Spock’s knees, opening his eyes and entreating Spock to meet his gaze. “Logic says that, if you showed up here with something to tell me, it’s because it’s either something that’s troubling you and you need a second opinion, or it’s something that you need to tell  _ me _ , specifically.” He takes a breath, and waits for Spock’s face to slowly turn back to his, those dark eyes blinking before they focus on his own. “We’ve been friends long enough now that you trust me, or else you wouldn’t have come here at all. Use your freaky Vulcan mind-reading skills if you need to check that I’m being honest.” Jim waggles his fingers and gives his best disarming smile. 

“You sound like the doctor,” Spock says with the tiniest hint of an uptick to his mouth, then closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. 

Jim has the presence of mind to lift his wrists off Spock’s legs before a frisson of fear runs through him, but he’s sure it’s not a gesture that’s wasted on the all-too-perceptive man in front of him. Spock is treating this like it is a Big Deal, capital letters and all, and Jim doesn’t know what to think.

“Did you mean it? What you said earlier?” Spock says finally, his eyes flying open to meet Jim’s, suddenly raw and pleading. It’s unlike him to be this vague, and that in of itself makes Jim even more anxious. If Spock’s too spooked to be specific to the letter, Jim can’t begin to imagine what’s gone wrong.

“Gotta give me more than that, buddy,” Jim answers carefully, “did I mean what?”

“What you said earlier today, down on the planet,” Spock answers, his face tight with anticipation, his body tensed as though for a blow. 

“What I said earlier…” Jim casts his mind back, searching through their day. It couldn’t have been anything at the actual talks, there’d be no reason for Spock to have much-repressed feelings about any of that; it had all had to do with the various tribes on the planet, and federation rules, and endless babbling about laws and reparations and boundaries. He’s drawing a blank, and he can see Spock’s face starting to fall.  _ Alright, Kirk, _ he thinks, beginning to panic, _ start at the top _ . They’d run into each other in the turbolift at 0600, made small talk, then met up with Uhura and Cupcake in the transporter room before beaming down to the planet. Nothing consequential there, so he casts his mind frantically forward. They’d been greeted by their hosts on the planet, and since their species formed bonded pairs at a young age, the lead diplomat couple had looked at Spock and Jim and said, “Captain, we welcome you and your lifemate.” 

It falls into place like a piece into a puzzle so hard he almost hears his brain click, and he takes a deep breath. The hosts had looked at them and said,  _ “Captain, we welcome you and your lifemate,” _ and when Uhura had just given her trademark  _ there’s no point in trying to translate this one, Captain _ shrug, he’d smiled sincerely, clapped Spock on the back, and said softly, “Can’t think of anyone better,” then moved on to perform the extensive ritual greeting. 

“ _ Can’t think of anyone better _ ,” Jim breathes, “Spock…” he grips Spock’s knees hard, feeling the deck swirl beneath him. “Is it time?” he says, without thinking, and Spock frowns. 

“Time? Jim, what do you mean?”

Jim shakes himself, and reaches out to catch Spock’s fingers in his own. Forget butterflies in his stomach; he feels like he’s swallowed a plate of gagh.

“Your friend, Ambassador Spock, he told me…” Jim begins.

Spock must pick up on something through their touch, because Spock’s eyes widen as he says questioningly, “Ambassador Spock thought we would be…”

“‘Inevitable’ was the word he used,” Jim says, forcing himself to laugh past the heart in his throat, “Spock, I’m not reading this wrong, right? We both know I’m good at that, with you, that I…”

“No, Jim,” Spock says, and lays one long finger over Jim’s lips, which Jim’s pretty sure is a little naughty, now that he thinks about it, so he sucks the digit into his mouth and glides his teeth over the soft pad of it, watching with rapt attention as Spock’s eyes go black. “I have had… feelings… for you for some time, but I did not want to act.”

Jim opens his mouth to respond, but Spock slips in another finger. Never let it be said that he can’t take a hint, Jim thinks, and sucks on them diligently, adjusting his grip on Spock’s knees as Spock scoots to the edge of his chair, pressing his legs out wide around Jim’s waist. 

“I did not want to act because I was unsure of whether you reciprocated my regard. Then, today, with your words, I realized that I did not care, that living with the possibility that there could be  _ more _ , if not for my fear, was something which I could no longer do.”

“I reciprocate,” Jim gets out urgently, “ _I reciprocate_ ,” his voice muffled around Spock’s fingers. It’s important this be clear, because if this were to go away now, he doesn’t think he could stand it. Spock smiles at him, and it’s radiant like a sun cresting from behind a thermosphere. Jim gapes openly, and Spock runs his fingers down the side of Jim’s face, leaving trails of what feel like electricity behind them, tingling across his skin. 

“The telepathic link would be stronger with more contact points,” Spock says pointedly, and Jim laughs out loud, giddy and delighted and shaky with adrenaline. 

“You’re just trying to get in my pants, Spock,” Jim answers with a grin, but pulls his shirt back off, trembling as Spock runs those same two fingers over his collarbone and down across his shoulder. Spock doesn’t answer, just stands up, and abruptly Jim is faced with Spock’s hips, waist, and a bulge that makes Jim’s mouth water. God, it’s been too long since he went down on a dick, he thinks, anchoring his hands to Spock’s thighs and leaning in.

“No,” Spock says, pulling Jim up by his biceps and settling him on his feet. He always does forget how much stronger Spock is than the humans, which is probably by Spock’s design, really, but right now Spock is making not a single effort to hold back, and it’s hot as fuck. 

“No?” Jim asks sadly.

Spock eyeballs him for a second before amending, “...not yet.” A feeling of surreal calm washes over him,  and Jim nods, standing as still and steady as he can while Spock swiftly and efficiently divests him of his clothing. Spock pauses when he’s done, just looking at him, that gaze more heated than Jim’s ever seen, in spite of the rest of Spock’s perpetual outward calm. Jim resists the urge to cover himself under the appraisal, letting his dick jump in front of him as it wants; there’s no point in modesty now, either they go forward or they don’t, and whether Spock’s seen Jim’s junk or not is secondary.

“Do I pass muster?” he says finally, and Spock startles ever so slightly. 

“You are aesthetically pleasing to me, yes,” Spock says drily, and Jim rolls his eyes even as Spock reaches for him and takes him by the hand into the bedroom. “Come. ”

“Don’t mess around, do you, Spock?” Jim says, following him obediently. He’s a little surprised at the turn this whole evening has taken, a little discomfited, actually, if he’s being honest, but if this is what Spock wants…

“Jim,” Spock says, turning to face him suddenly, looking almost apologetic, “While I do desire to be physically intimate with you, I also would like, with your permission, to access the memories which I’m assuming my counterpart shared with you. This means going into a full meld, and lying down is a precaution.”

“You don’t just want me for my body, you want me for my mind?”

“Precisely,” Spock answers, and peels off his own uniform shirt. 

“Computer, raise temperature ten degrees.”

Spock shoots him a grateful look as he removes the rest of his clothing, and  _ goddamn _ , Jim knew Spock was attractive, but he’s tried not to linger on the thought. Now, though, he’s faced with seemingly unending expanses of taut pale skin, greenish-hued in the shadowed dips of his hips, his thighs, the bends of his elbows and knees.

“Do I pass muster?” Spock asks, and Jim bursts out laughing, throwing his arms around Spock’s neck and hauling him in, pressing their foreheads together. 

“I find you aesthetically pleasing,” Jim answers, and kisses him, slowly, lingeringly, with great attention to detail. Spock’s cheeks are flushed when he finally pulls back, and Jim feels high from the little skips of electric stimulus zinging across his body wherever they’re in contact. “Is it always going to be like this?” he asks, “this… shocky? What’s causing that, anyway?”

“It is an unusually strong response,” Spock hedges, guiding them down to sit on the bed, his arm seemingly glued to Jim’s waist, “presumably because we have worked in such close contact for several years, and because we are highly compatible.”

“You don’t know?” Jim’s not alarmed, but he’s also not really good at knowing when he should be concerned for his own safety, really. Spock wouldn’t engage in something dangerous to Jim, though, so he feels comfortable with his own response being curiousity. 

“I know that it’s a result of our minds seeking to form a link, and that it will likely settle once we have melded. But, Jim…” Spock sounds afraid again, and Jim pulls him close, rubbing his hand up and down Spock’s back. “You should know that it is likely, given the response already demonstrated between us, that our minds will form a spontaneous bond. It would be reversible, with the help of another Vulcan, but…”

“I know, Spock,” Jim whispers, “it’s ok, I know.”

“You do not mind?” Spock’s voice is nearly inaudible, his face buried against Jim’s neck.

“Come on,” Jim says, and lays Spock down, tangling their legs together as they go and sighing in a strange mixture of nerves and relief at the sensation of so much of Spock’s warm, bare, skin pressed up against his own. It’s simultaneously a new, foreign sensation, and the home he’s been missing since he was born. Spock’s eyes on him are endless and steady, so Jim gropes for Spock’s hand and presses it up against his face, waiting till Spock’s long fingers have assumed the familiar pattern on his face. “Your mind to my mind…”

“My thoughts to your thoughts,” Spock finishes breathlessly, and suddenly the universe explodes around them.

_ “I have been, and always shall be, your friend,” _ Spock says, but it’s old Spock, not  _ his  _ Spock, then or now, and he can feel his own Spock’s startled reaction to the tears standing in the Ambassador’s eyes as he looks at Jim where he stands gasping and cold. Those long fingers reach for him, pressing hard into his face, and he’s melded with the Ambassador, filled with joy and hope and love and endless,  _ endless  _ pain.

The landscape of his memory changes, and still Spock is with him, pressed in and under and against his skin as he gasps his way awake from one of the most vivid dreams he’s ever had in his life, shaking as he remembers the sight of Spock, older and wiser and  _ dying  _ behind feet of glass, Scotty and Bones holding him back as he tries to throw himself into the room with his friend, his lover, his…

_ It means soulmate _ , he hears in his mind, and feels Spock’s incredulity as the memory of  dream-Jim presses his hand to the glass and sobs, _ this is how you knew to re-align the warp core _ , and there’s a hint of accusation that Jim can’t dodge, not when they’re this close. He feels distant hands on his face, a heart beating against his own, and breathes in deeply, pushing aside the remorse he feels, not for his actions, but for the pain caused that he can now feel as intimately as his own.  _ Focus, Jim _ , he hears, and turns back to the memory at hand.

The Ambassador’s face appears before him on a viewscreen when Jim punches through the code to New Vulcan, serene and composed as ever. _ “To what do I owe the pleasure?”  _ he says, as though it’s not 3 am in ShiKahr, and Jim drags a hand through his bedhead, trying to gather his words.

“You two were… you and your Captain, you were…”

_ “Lovers?” _ the Ambassador offers calmly, but Jim shakes his head irritably, “No, more than that. I mean, yes, that, too, but friends, and partners, and…” he trails off as a look of infinite sorrow crosses the Ambassador’s face. 

_ “Yes,” _ Spock says simply, and Jim realizes suddenly, viscerally, that this Spock hasn’t had his Jim in a very long time, and he reaches involuntarily for the viewscreen, his instinct to comfort any version of Spock he comes across overriding his conceptual understanding of distance.  _ “We were.” _

“How… when does it happen?” Jim manages to ask, but the Ambassador just smiles and shakes his head. 

_ “The details will be different in this universe. I can’t tell you when and how, all I can tell you is that it will.”  _

The world shifts on its axis and they’re on Earth again, and the Ambassador is smiling at him from across a low table in Academy guest quarters. There’s a stab of surprise underlain with a thread of jealousy as his Spock processes the image, the lit candles on the table, the two plates. 

_ “...our father has simply decided to pretend I am a long-lost cousin, and will not concede otherwise; not to me, not to T’Pol, not to anyone.” _

Jim feels himself laugh in response, and take a drink of his wine. “I guess you come by your sense of denial honestly,” he says, and the Ambassador smiles faintly. The Spock within him is taken aback, feels unsettled by the open displays of emotion, and Jim allows reassurance to resonate through his mind, reaching for the touch of his thoughts, and grounding the meld to the sense of their bodies pressed together from ankle to arm, finger to hand to rib to stomach and back again.

_ “Jim” _ , the Ambassador says seriously,  _ “I am sorry that you are lonely. I cannot tell you much beyond what the Kohlinar priests told me, and that is simply that our katras are meant to be together, and will work to overcome all odds, even death, to be with each other.” _

Jim sets his wine glass down and sighs, and the Ambassador continues.  _ “I am afraid that I have done you no favors, my friend,”  _ he says, his eyes sad.  _ “In melding with you when we met, my presence has triggered a response in you, and I think it would have been kinder to have let you come to it in your own time.” _

“No,” says Jim fervently, “No. Who knows what I would have done? I wouldn’t give up a moment of my time with you, with either of you.” He reaches over to grasp the Ambassador’s hand, fingers rough and warm and strong against his own. “If I have to wait, I have to wait. You say he’ll figure it out, that he’ll come to me? Then when he comes, I’ll be here. I’ll be right here.”

The Ambassador frees his fingers from Jim’s grip, and raises his hand to stroke Jim’s cheek, settling on the curve of his face, his thumb caught in the corner of Jim’s mouth.  _ “Oh, Jim,” _ he says, his voice quavery and hoarse as Jim gives a shuddering sigh and closes his eyes,  _ “I do miss you.” _

Jim inhales deeply, clutching at the body pressed against his as Spock withdraws slowly from the meld, drawing his fingers down Jim’s face. The sparks are still zipping through their touches, making Spock gasp when Jim presses his hips up, and up again, electricity surging through them with every motion of skin against skin. He does it again, relishing the tingles that run from his scalp to his toes.

“Jim,” Spock whispers, his fingers threading into Jim’s own as their bodies move together, following the instinctual touch too long denied them, pressing against each other in patterns of motion unconscious and desperate, “why did you never speak of this to me?”

For once in his life he has no words, none at all, so he presses his mouth to Spock’s, willing him to understand that  _ this _ , this simple feeling between them, was far too much, too precious to risk; that what he had felt of their bond from the Ambassador had seemed to him like the beginning and end of the world, like something he had been born and would die for, and that it was the first and only thing in his life he’d ever felt worth waiting for, worth making right.

He reaches for Spock’s hand, brings it to his temple as he gets his other around both of them together, pulling a quiet groan from Spock that makes Jim nearly combust with happiness as he realizes that he will be able to hear that sound again, and again, for the rest of their lives. 

“I didn’t want to do it wrong, Spock,” he says, pressing Spock’s fingers into the meld points and falling into the vast nebula that is Spock’s inner self, “I couldn’t bear the thought of fucking it up. I wanted you to come to me of your own accord, not because I told you that you would, or should, or even because of the Ambassador.”

He can feel Spock around him as he flies apart, warm arms holding him as he is held, a mouth moving against his own, and a heart settling in behind his own as their minds complete the link. _ I just wanted you, _ he thinks,  _ I will always, only, want just you _ .

_ I have been, and always shall _ , he hears Spock as their breathing settles and their bodies relax into satiation,  _ be yours _ .


End file.
